


What’s the Time Mr Wolf

by LaptopLocked



Category: Hermitcraft, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, deaged grian, grian au, hermitcraft au, yandere highschool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-27 00:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20751599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaptopLocked/pseuds/LaptopLocked
Summary: Grian is a certified man child, every hermit knew this. Pranks, silly builds and breaking every redstone machine within his reach is his forte and his friends are sure that he’s always been like that... right?As far as Grian’s bright ideas go, trespassing on the Area77 site and messing with complicated alien machinery might not have been his best one, as the hermits are sure to soon find out.Hijinks, hilarity, confusion and angst; all rolled into one shrunken bundle.





	1. Alarm Clock

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an AU that I thought of before, using the idea that Grian went through both YHS and Evo before arriving in Hermitcraft.
> 
> If you have any questions about this AU send me a comment! I’d be happy to answer.
> 
> And before you ask, no, I’m not writing this because Grian is an OwO Baby; it’s to explore the development of his character before Hermitcraft, following the YHS (Yandere High School) Story Line. Basically angst and independent toddler Grian. Also I’d find it hilarious for the hermits to try and care for this child of destruction and chaos (except is he????)

Trespassing was against the law.

He knew this.

He knew that they could be lurking around each corner.

He knew the danger.

He knew the risks.

He just didn’t care.

Giggling softly under his breath, he approached the highly guarded, yet suspiciously open door.

Honestly he can’t be blamed. If they were willing to leave an impenetrable door open then they are just ASKING for unknown visitors to come and play with all of the alien contraband! Plus they still have his time machine and Villager Grian; he’s just making sure they’re alright.

Well… that’s what he was doing until he saw ‘it’.

It was big, the size spanning an entire wall of the storage unit he had found, exposed redstone glints in the dark as angry red letters type gobbledygook on a screen the size of a cow. If front of the screen, similar to his Mumbo Moustache Machine, are various buttons, levers and exposed wiring. The entire machine is cordoned off with Black and yellow warning tape, wrapping the entire dark steel ensemble in a threatening aura of danger.

He just had to touch it.

How could he not?

He approached the mechanism with as much caution as he could muster; so not much. His skipping steps echoed along the metal walls, harsh fluorescent lights beam down upon the room. Various blinking lights wink at the Hippy, beckoning him closer. 

Just as he came within touching distance of the device did he feel the first signs of unease. The machines lights are a warning red, not the green or amber that he was used to; the buttons were in unfamiliar order and the power source hooked up to multiple wires. This was NOT his time machine. Yet it had the same power source and beginning procedure. 

Doc was trying to reverse engineer his time machine.

The thought of Doc messing with his precious machine is maddening. He was quite proud of the work he put into his machine. Yet he was innately curious of what Doc, a mechanical genius in his own right, did to improve or change his creation.

Unable to bare anymore pondering he examined the machine much more closely.  
AHA!

A big red button glows a dim red, above it is a warning sticker that peels at the edges. 

‘DO NOT PRESS’.

Now he’s been in this exact situation before with Mumbos redstone prank at his witch farm. Something that was supposed to teach him a lesson. Did he learn from his mistakes?

… Probably not.

With no hesitation, Grian smacked his hand onto the console, the red of the button glowing brighter.

…

Nothing happened.

Disappointed and slightly frustrated, Grian kicked the control console out of spite, crossing his arms whilst leaning on the machine interface; grumbling about useless machines and incompetent government agents.

What he didn’t notice was his elbow hitting a small, unobtrusive switch with a sticker that states ‘ON/OFF’.

Loud whirring and clanging emit from the machine, harsh vibrations and flashing lights frighten the Hippy into leaping away from the machine, stepping backwards nearer to the power source.

One wrong step sends him sprawling, disconnecting wires and jostling the power source from it’s high up stand. 

Disoriented, Grian shakes his head, glancing at the tottering power source with widening eyes. He tries to scramble away from the heavy object, but the detached wires have him trapped and squirming.

He can only watch in horror as the power source tips over the stand; heading straight for Grians head.

He closes his eyes in preparation, dreading respawning at the Hippy Compound with the inevitable splitting headache.

Except that doesn’t happen.

At the last moment, before the awful death that awaited, Grians sight flashed white, the remnants of an explosion bursting through his ear drums, shaking his brain and heart to their cores.

His eyes blink open for a second after the ringing fades, the bright fluorescent lights are sparking, the room filled with smoke. He spies debris at the corners of his vision, the power source shattered just centimetres away from his head.

His head and eyes hurt.

Coughing, he tried to twitch his finger where they lay underneath what he assumes to be a metal sheet. They hardly move.

His breathing is limited by the smoke, ash and other harsh chemicals spilling into the air, impending his calls and cries for help.

His ringing ears or rough throat must be worse than he thought, he’s sure his voice isn’t that high; even to his own ears.

The mixture of smoke inhalation and his cries for help cost him whatever energy he had. Eyes lidding in exhaustion.

Just as he hears voices enter the now exposed storage unit, his eyes slip closed; sending him into oblivion.

——————————————————————————

So he wasn’t expecting this.

He had just left to grab some food, scrounging for something that wasn’t gold coated carrots. Just because they’re good for you doesn’t mean they taste great.

Slurping on a bowl of mushroom stew (He’s got to give it to the hippies, they grow good shrooms), Doc left the little campsite; fire pit still smoking. Taping the bent spoon against the side of the bowl he chewed a large piece of scalding potato, chuckling at the polka music he saved from his hot potato dare, blasting it just to annoy his fellow hermit Captain Angry Eyes.

Emerging from the foliage, scrapping the bottom of the bowl was when he heard it. A large ‘CRACK’ followed by a brilliant flash of cyan, as a short shock wave trembled through his legs, forcing his unprepared knees to give out, dropping him to the floor and sending his bowl skidding across the tarmac.

Scar would kill him.

Later.

Right now he needs to find out what caused that shockwave.

There may be plenty of volatile alien tech in the government site, but very few that could cause a reaction like that. In fact there were two possible causes. One was deeply hidden underground where only Scar and Doc could reach; shut down and gathering dust.

The other he was just working on, before lack of sleep and hunger pangs forced him to move away from the volatile machinery locked behind a heavily guarded door…

That he forgot to close.

Swearing in harsh German, Doc launches to the sky with the fire of a firework, spamming the small explosives in order to garner speed, desperation causing his hands to shake and fumble with the fragile string.

The sound of the wind roaring in his ears couldn’t quite cover up the approaching sounds of a second set of fireworks going off. Glancing to his left reveals a curious and alarmed Scar, flying at his speed and height to shoot him a questioning look. With a worried shrug Dic gestures his head in the direction of the secured Storage Unit/Lab. Eyes widening in understanding Scar nods and lets loose another stream of fireworks, Doc tailing behind the sparkling trails.

Swiftly arriving to the now decimated Storage unit; the two Government Agents manoeuvres their elytra to drag against the wind, slowing them to a gentle yet shaky glide downwards. As they land on the completely blown off door Scar turns to Doc.

“So…”, he begins with a sheepish grin, “I guess the experiment went well?”

A single deadpan look in his direction was his only answer; Doc then swiftly hopping down from the collapsed door frame to move inside the unit. With a small sigh, his companion swiftly follows.

The entire room collapsed upon itself, the walls crumpled like paper, exposed pipes trickling water down the sides of the rubble, flowing to the centre of the once room turned crater. The ceiling apparently took the brunt of the blast, with the strong metal beams melted at the edges and the insulation turned to a fine ash that coated the surrounding 15 block parameter, scuffing the bottom of the two men’s boots. The machine that Doc poured so much time and effort into looked like it exploded outwards, torn and jagged pieces of metal clung to the casing, sparks flying from the destroyed wiring. Smoke billowed from inside the machine.

As Doc stared at his trashed creation, Scar can up behind him to lay a firm hand on his shoulder. Laying his despondent gaze on Scars face he lets out a low groan. Scar grimaced in pity at seeing his friends grief over losing so much progress on a project he was genuinely excited about; yet he tried to put on a happy grin to cheer up his friend.

“Ah don’t worry Doc! I’m sure it’ll be easy to rebuild the building, plus you always keep your notes on our secret server, so you won’t be starting completely from scratch!”

An even louder groan was his only answer, Doc bringing his hands up to his faces, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Scar gave an awkward chuckle as he took another glance around the destroyed site, noticing a missing component that he knew would have blown up in the blast.

“Hey Doc,” he starts with hesitance, “where’s the power cube thingy?”

Doc glanced up from his fingers, gaze still tired and frustrated as he glances around his surroundings.

“It should be here somewhere.” He grumbled. “It is near unbreakable, not even an explosion this size could destroy it.”

Further searching yields no results, so with a sigh the two hermits begin a short search, climbing over small mounds of rubble and machine components.

It takes a good 5 minutes before Scar hears a small triumphant ‘Aha!’

He travels over to the noise, relieved to have found the precious object.  
Before he heard a loud gasp and screech.

Launching over a fallen beam he sprints to the surprisingly girly noise, skidding to a stop in front of the frozen creeper cyborg.

“Doc! What happened?!” 

The creeper doesn’t reply, staring gobsmacked at a piece of red fabric on the ground next to the sought after energy core.

Scar gentle moves his friend aside before squatting down beside the bundle of wooden fabric, dusty with ash and slightly torn in areas, it’s a miracle it survived the explosion.

Reaching a slightly shaking hand out, he lifts one end of the fabric, glancing at the revealed object underneath.

… The revealed PERSON underneath.

“Holy Shi-“


	2. Tea spills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xisuma is tired, fed up and run down. Being an Admin is a tough job for such a big server. He’s seen everything that’s ever happened in these worlds. He’s sure nothing could surprise him anymore.
> 
> Then this happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for the wait! I’m currently dealing with my education at the moment so uploads will be a bit slow!
> 
> I hope you enjoy anyway!

There was nothing that could surprise him anymore.

He has mastered the art of facial control.

Always calm, always steady, always ready.

Since the beginning Hermitcraft was a haven for special individuals, all so different yet so similar. This world was their’s to shape, to control, to have fun in. Buildings were erected up from the ground, machines meticulously tested for better efficiency, group projects pop up at random. Of course there was going to be a few weird projects, a few strange inside jokes and a few seemingly useless machines; but those just added to the atmosphere of the generated world.

Xisuma sighed, leaning back in his comfy office chair, pages spilled across his simple desk. 

At least the rest of the Hermits didn’t need to do this mind numbing work.

Months past the update and he was STILL fixing broken chunks. Cleos pirate ship, the area surrounding Hermitville, the huge lighting issue and even a misspawned pile of sand that had Joe trapped like a bad Winnie The Pooh knock off. He had fixed it all by pouring over game code and translating old galactic instructions. Yet that didn’t stop the glitch that caused his old/new hermit Bdubs from spawning to his ultimate demise before getting lucky with Keralis’ swimming pool.

With a groan of frustration he reached for a stylised mug detailing the inside of a creeper. A past gag gift from Doc, it stays in his office, permanently stained with tea and inky fingerprints. Taking a sip of his sweetened tea (he was laying off the coffee per Stress’ orders) he grimaced at the lukewarm liquid, setting it back down on the mug stained section of his desk. He sighs and leans back, trying to gather the energy to travel the few steps to his office kettle.

… It had been quiet the past few days.

Usually Hermitcraft was filled with activity, filled with builds, pranks and shenanigans (lately of the Hippy/Government kind). Yet this world was getting harder to live in. The hermits needed an abundance of resources in order to build their buildings, create their machines and set their traps. At this point, Hermits had to travel thousands of blocks to simply get quartz! With more time spent resource gathering and less on activities there were less problems for Xisuma to solve. As well as less projects for him to be involved in.

Sometimes Xisuma thinks that they had exhausted their creativity on this world, building such strange projects that it is getting harder and harder to top them. For gods sake there was a giant house with a dragon, a space station with a Dabbing penguin and a live Venus fly trap with a castle on top of it. And that was one group project!

Yes there was Hermitland, Area 77 and even new HermitTown, but what after that.

With a final sigh Xisuma swings to his feet, grasping his mugs chipped handle and heads to the sink, passing his offices exit on the way.

‘Yeah,’ Xisuma thinks, ‘Nothing could possible surprise me anymore.’

Well, except for his door bursting open and a frantic Creeper Cyborg crashing into him.

With a rather girly screech Xisuma and Doc were thrown to the carpet on top of each-other, landing with a muted ‘thunk’, mug sailing past their heads to douse them in lukewarm tea, the mug smacking into the small of Docs back. 

They just laid there, clothes/armour soaked with nasty tea, groaning in pain. With a small huff, Doc rolled off of the squished man who let out a pained wheeze.

“Ok”, he puffs with a deadpan stare, ”anyone wanna tell me why I was rugby tackled in my own office that has a lot of delicate machines in it?”

A now recovered Doc glances at Scar, who stood in the doorway of his office. They both exchange uncertain gazes, Scar chewing on his bottom lip while one hand fiddles with the brim of his hat and the other hand is behind his back, out of sight.

Scar sighs and cautiously begins speaking in a low voice, as if he was trying to calm down a wild animal; which was strange, it wasn’t the first time Xisuma was bulldozed over in his own office.

“We… uh, we did something.”

Doc huffs and crosses his arms.

“WE didn’t do anything!”

Scar gives him a petulant look, shaking his head in exasperation when Doc just huffs again. Something tells Xisuma they’ve had this conversation before.

This is not going to be an easy conversation it seems.

Breaking the sudden silence, Xisuma states “Ok, so what you’re saying is something DID happen, but it did not involve you two at all I’m guessing.” 

Doc and Scar share a short glance, both nodding in unison. Ok, at least we’re getting somewhere.

With an exhausted sigh Xisuma groans out,”Alright look, if this is another chunk error thing then it will have to wait, I already have two chunks I needs to fix before I can get round to it. So unless your entire base disappeared then I’m sorry guys but there’s a waiting list.”

Doc splutters, “O-oh no this isn’t a chunk thingy my friend, it’s something a bit more… top secret?” He finished his sentence with a sheepish shrug.

“Yeah,” Scar continues, “and it’s a bit more urgent than one of our bases disappearing… a lot more urgent.”

Now much more alarmed but still wary of any silly shenanigans, Xisuma gestures with his hand to continue. 

Scar begins shifting side to side, his visible hand now scratching at his stubble.  
“It would be better if we just show you.” The cyborg interjects.

With a small motion, Scar fully entered the now cramped office, his hand still suspiciously behind his back.

With a single step to the side, the biggest surprise of the season is brought to Xisumas attention.

A little kid, no more than 3-4 years old stood in his office, fluffy blond hair sits on his head like a strange mop, hands wringing the sleeves of the massive red sweater he’s wearing, with no pants and only a large pair of socks that seem destined to slip off the boys knobbly legs. Large purple eyes meet his in an almost threatening stare; if it wasn’t for the strand of blond hair sticking to the side of his downturned mouth that is. His knees seem to be scrapped up and hastily bandaged along with a couple other bandaids that’s seem to be slapped on at random.

Xisuma also notices how tense the kid was; along with the tight grip Scar had on the kids thin wrists.

Doc hurried behind Scar and the mysterious guest to close and, weirdly, lock the door before setting the key on a high up cupboard, the child’s eyes following along with the movement.

Still in a state of shock, Xisuma splutters out a quick response.

“O-Ok so there’s a kid with lots of bandages in my office and you two apparently did something that involves the kid. Will someone PLEASE explain what’s going on?!”

Doc once again crosses his arms with a huff, grumbling “We didn’t do anything, it’s all the little guys fault.”

With indignation and anger filling the boys eyes, the kid whirls his head towards the creeper cyborg and speaks with a slight stumbling of words fitting of a toddler.

“I didn’t do anything! It was all you guys! You kidnapped me!”

His head snaps back to Xisuma.

“Who are you guys anyway? Are you one of those crazy people that dress up after Halloween’s over?”

The entire room fell into spluttering, Xisuma and Doc with surprise and a bit of defensiveness whilst Scar tried to hold back a laugh.

The kid narrows his eyes.

“My mommy told me not to talk to strangers, she said they’d be creepy and mean to me.”

Xisuma calmed down and rests a hand on the still fuming Docs shoulder.

“Kid, we aren’t kidnappers, and you’re just as much of a stranger to us, care to tell us how you got here?”

With a nervous and curious glance, Scar and Doc turn to the kid to hear his response.

With a confused and angry stare, the kid crossed his arms.

“If you didn’t kidnap me then how did I get here? I was trying to find my teddy then I woke up on the ground of a weird lab place, like in Dexter.”

Having no clue what Dexter was, Xisuma took in the rest of the information while Doc asks the kid another question with a fed up voice.

“Look squirt, we didn’t kidnap you. One of our things exploded in the lab and when we were trying to clean up we found you laying there in the dust; so if you touched anything there just fess up and we can find a way to send you home.”

The kid, being a kid, stomped his socked feet on the carpet, making a rather unsatisfying thud, mouth twisted into an adorable snarl.

“I TOLD you! I didn’t touch anything! I don’t remember anything but waking up there! Why don’t you believe me?”

Doc groaned again, but Scar just threw his arm over his friends robotic shoulder while addressing the little rage monster.

“Alright Little Fella, we can work this out, don’t worry. We’ll find a way to get you back home in no time.”

At the unsure look the kid was giving them, Xisuma decided it was time to butt in.

“I’m an admin kid, I can find a way to get ya home don’t worry.”

The kid didn’t seem convinced, but gave a little sigh anyway.

“I don’t trust you guys, you’re kinda creepy.”

Scar choked on a laugh while Doc rolled his eyes. Xisuma was just amused at this tiny kids anger.

The kid continued “But if you can get me home, that would be great.”

Xisuma sighed in relief. This situation may be strange, but he’s sure this will be an easy fix, sending players between worlds was easy if you had the power in your current world, and due to how long the hermits had stayed in this world that energy was fully charged up. All he had to do was find out his name, world and if possible coordinates.

“Alright kid, we’ll get ya cleaned up and in some better clothes,” if they even had any in such a tiny size, “ but we can’t keep calling ya kid the whole time, so what’s your name, tiny?”

Groaning at the nickname, the kid crossed his little arms and replied in a huffing voice.

“My names Grian, not Tiny!”

Welp.

This just got a lot more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp I’m tired XD
> 
> If you see any spelling mistakes let me know! I’m still struggling with writing conversations so any tips or pieces of advice would be much appreciated! 
> 
> Remember to leave kudos if you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> Leave a Comment or a Kudos if you enjoyed! I’ll try to keep updating this fic as ideas come to me, I already have quite a few XD
> 
> If there were any spelling mistakes let me know and I’ll get it fixed! I am also always open to constructive criticism!
> 
> Have a nice day!


End file.
